Ye shepherds of this pleasant vale,
Where Yarrow glides along,
Forsake your rural toils
And join in my triumphant song!
She grants, she yields one heav'nly smile,
Atones her long delays,
One happy minute crown the pains
Of many suff'ring days.

Refrain:
 Yarrow, how dear thy stream,
 Thy beauteous banks how blest!
 For there  'twas first my loveliest maid,
 A mutual flame confest.

Take, take whate'er of bliss or joy
You fondly fancy mine;
Whate'er of joy or bliss I boast,
Love renders wholly thine.
The woods struck up to the soft gale,
The leaves were seen to move,
The feather'd choir resum'd  their voice,
And music fill'd the grove.

(Refrain)